Latest Posts by gutter-bot - Page 3

Listen...

Pondering my orbs.

Apparently I needed this 🥰😭

UGHHHHHH issogood!!

Big. Beautiful.

one of the smokescreens i made for the magma zine!!

Part 9 🥀🩶

Sweet baby Jesus only one more to go!! And then I PROMISE I will get to that KOBD drabble request 😭🙏

While she didn’t know much about the world outside of the brothel, there were two things she was certain of.

Firstly, she was a fugitive, and given the level of her crime, she knew they would send the Guard out to search for her. She would have to be cautious and alert at all times.

Secondly, while the grappling cables in her arms had allowed her to escape and offered her a quick and efficient means to get around, they were not weapons. She needed to find a way to arm herself if she planned on exacting revenge against those who had wronged her and her beloved.

So she kept to the shadows, listening, searching for word of the resistance and any potential allies that might aid her. It had taken her several deca-cycles to pick up on a single lead, and another several to find the bot in question. As she stood staring at the nondescript unit that matched the address she’d been given, she felt her spark flutter nervously.

Ex-venting, she glanced up the street discretely to see if anyone was watching her, and with a casual grace that belied the tumultuous storm of emotions she was experiencing, strolled toward her destination. Stepping into the shop, she paused to look around, noting the variety of work displayed along the walls. Near a desk, standing in stark contrast to much of the other pieces, was a form - fitted with intricate armor plating. She recognized the coloration and style instantly. This had been commissioned by a member of the Elite Guard. It would seem she had come to the right place.

“Can I help you?”

Turning away from the display, she replied, “I hope so. I’m looking for weapons.”

He gave her a once over, optic ridges raising in surprise. “You uhh… with the Council? Their order isn’t quite ready, but should be within the next few orns.”

She gave a small, pointed smile. “No… not the Council. I’ve been told you cater to… other clientele as well.”

He froze, servos dropping from his hips slowly. His expression wavered, and he stepped closer to the desk. His lower half was hidden, and she would bet just about anything he was currently reaching for a weapon of his own.

“Not sure whatcha mean, stranger,” he replied, the tightness in his tone not unnoticed to her. “My priority is the Guard. Anything outside of that will have to wait.”

She kept her servos open and visible, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. The fact that he was wary confirmed he was exactly the bot she was looking for. Based on what she’d been told, he operated as an industrial machinist before Kaon was captured by Decepticon forces. The same armory that supplied the gladiators with their resources had also forged much of the Elite Guard’s weaponry, and without access to it, they had been forced to source elsewhere. Which of course meant bullying local businesses into working almost exclusively for them, under fear of pain should they refuse. Some bots hadn’t been too fond of the treatment and harassment they received.

“I’ve been told you make exceptions… in the event that I provide you with this,” she continued, slowly reaching into her subspace and producing a single shanix, the glyph for the number thirteen carved crudely into one side. She placed it on the desk between them.

He stared down at it, his posture instantly relaxing. Then he glanced back up at her, optic ridges furrowing. “Hope you can excuse the defensiveness, I’m under near constant surveillance.”

Tipping her helm in understanding, she acknowledged, “It’s to be expected.”

“So… weapons, hm?”

Not willing to divulge too much, she chose a more vague approach. “I would like to join the fight, but am woefully unprepared to do so. I can’t linger too long.”

If there was one thing she had learned from her time in the brothel that seemed to ring true everywhere, it was that some bots were willing to pay just about anything to have a night (or two) with someone like her. She hoped he was one such bot. He was attractive, in a rough kind of way, something she didn’t get to experience much while locked away in that Pit-foresaken place. She was intrigued.

“I don’t have much in the way of wealth. You’re welcome to the meager shanix I’ve been able to procure, but I do have… other means of paying you for your work.”

He almost seemed startled by the request, the vents framing his face suddenly aglow. Recovering relatively quickly, he laughed, a low, pleasant sound. “There’s no need for that. I make sure to overcharge those uppity fraggers as much as possible for all the grief they cause. Which means any special work I do is covered, unwitting compliments of the High Council.”

The mech turned from the desk and reached for the console on the wall, pressing in the sequence to lock the front doors. Wouldn’t do for the wrong bot to walk in and find him out. As he did so, he threw over his shoulder offhandedly, “Besides… yer not quite my type.”

Her derma flashed, pleasant smile turning devious. She had suspected as much. “Oh?”

Plating shifted apart, components rearranging as her frame expanded.

“Not to offend, yer certainly easy on the optics, but I think I-”

The words fizzled out in his vocalizer as he turned back to address her again… only to find a mech standing in her place. The bot shared certain features (along with the color scheme), but was otherwise taller and broader in frame, nearly matching him in size. “Primus… what-?”

“If you won't accept payment for your services...”

The bot’s voice was mildly shocking, several octaves deeper, and as he moved around the counter the shop keeper felt his spark seize a little, spike stirring to life. Reaching out, the mech grasped his chin in a broad servo and leaned forward until their lip components were nearly touching. 

“...you can consider this a tip, then.”

.../♡/...

“The quality of your work really is as good as they said it would be,” she observed as she studied her new, reinforced plating. He had an optic for details, each addition blending seamlessly. The metal, while thin enough so as not to be bulky, was strong, tempered and molded to perfection.

“Thanks. So, uhh… what’s your designation?”

The machinist’s inquiry gave her pause. No one had ever asked her for a name. She had never been given one. A courtesan had no need for it, after all… they were objects.

‘Maybe it’s time I took a designation for myself,’ she considered. Megatron had… yet… what would she call herself?

'My Scarlet Flower.'

Any version of the pet name given to her by her lover seemed inappropriate, and truth be told… didn’t feel quite right. At least not anymore. That part of herself - the soft, delicate part - had perished, along with the lovely white femme who had held her spark. She was determined to become something frightful, some dreaded entity … her designation ought to reflect that.

A memory flickered through her processor, of vicious fangs striking with unparalleled precision. Of course…

“Naja,”

“Naja?” he repeated.

The Spire had earned it’s reputation as a luxury establishment for many reasons. Their selection of courtesans was second to none, each hand forged and carefully trained to provide the ultimate experience in indulgence. Yet they were not the only menagerie housed within the glittering tower; a variety of exotic wildlife was kept there as well, for no reason other than novelty and rarity. They relied on a great number of suppliers to bring in new and interesting specimens, and on one such occasion, a collection of beautiful razor-snakes had been brought in for their consideration. The carrier had handled them with such confidence, displaying each one and describing their subclass and toxicity to the patrons present – and their accompanying courtesans. He'd assured the guests and Masters the beasts had all been de-fanged, and were safe handle. Apparently, they had missed a snake. The largest of the lot, a great shimmering thing with a flared hood that framed its angular face. The supplier had reached for her, and in a motion so fast none of them had perceived it, she struck him in the face, fangs sinking deep and injecting him full of corrosive acid. Within a matter of nano-kliks half of his helm was missing, sloughing off in a puddle of bubbling metal.

The memory had always stuck with her, not because she’d been afraid, but because she recalled how very beautiful the creature was, making it deceptive in it’s capacity to harm. Nodding to herself more than anyone else, she repeated the word again, testing it, enjoying the way it sounded.

“Yes… Naja.”

Stepping toward the door, she glanced over her newly armored shoulder. “It’s been fun.”

The sentence was said in his voice, and the machinist stammered a little, nodding and waving her off.

Exiting, she took to a narrow lane after ensuring the coast was clear, glancing down at her servos. More specifically, the gleaming, hooked talons that tipped them. An addition he had suggested. She crooked her digits, grinning when they extended before retracting once again. Made to snag, carve, rend. With these, along with the thin blades he’d outfitted her with, she could begin cutting her path through the corrupt upper castes. Vengeance was within reach, but before she could return to The Spire, she needed practice…

A newly sparked predator honed their skills hunting glitch-mice long before taking down larger game.

Ahead of her, further down the lane she was traversing, she watched as a group of laborers worked diligently on the construction of a new building, bustling without pause from one job to another. A snide looking femme with a distinct badge affixed to her arm - identifying her as an architect - moved about the site, pointing and shouting, speaking down to the laborers and even striking one. They all looked at her with a bitter fear in their optics, but did as she bid them, clearly aware that they would be further punished should they speak up against the higher ranking bot

What a perfect place to start...

😭😭😭

Yes as one does...

This counts as vent art.

Amazing!! Look at this person's fabulous art they are so talented!

what's my age again

Needed a break from trying to finish the Naja origin stuff. They're such an old couple I'm dying 😭😂

Inspired by a shared thread between @quantumlogician and @deceitfulcharmer ... peak content. I can't unsee them like this now. Bless.

Part 8🥀🩶

The mech beneath her groaned in a way that made her feel unwell. He was a peculiar frame type for an upper caste, squat and rather rotund, which made his mobility (both generally speaking and intimately) limited. Considering this, she was made to sit atop him, staring down with thinly veiled disgust as he writhed beneath her practiced motions. As though servicing him wasn’t bad enough, he was loud, obnoxiously so.

In the past, she’d simply slipped into the recesses of her processor, recalling pleasurable moments shared between her and her lover. Now, the memories made it worse, knowing there would be no new intimacies to be had and cherished, to be called upon in times of need.

Another groan. Her tanks twisted.

‘Shut up.’

Why couldn’t they have just taken her away when they’d found her? Scrapped her, too? Both she and her Star, together in oblivion.

“That’s so good.”

‘Shut up!’

Her facade slipped, lip components curling back to reveal her derma in a derisive snarl. The look didn’t deter him. In fact he seemed to read it as a sign of her impending overload, making an effort to lift his hips from the berth to meet her downward stroke. He all but howled at the connection.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut Up!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

Her optics focused on his face, which was twisted up into an affronted frown. Oh… had she said that out loud?

“Why you- how dare you speak to me that way, you impertinent whore!”

Her spark stammered in her chassis, surprise not something she was used to feeling. She wasn’t usually so careless, but with everything that had happened, she had become easily distracted. A violent beating was certain at this point - she’d just been given a warning, after all.

Wait… perhaps… perhaps if her crime was egregious enough… they would have no choice but to terminate her. They could be one again, in the only way left to them. She looked away from the blustery mech – still spewing threats and indignities – to a figure carved from precious ore that sat invitingly on the table next to them. Surely… that would be heavy enough to do the job.

She reached over, wrapping her digits around the base and swiftly hitting him across the faceplate. The strike was jarring, sending vibration up her arm as it made contact. It shut him up, and sent a spray of bright blue energon across the berth next to his helm. He spluttered, wailing in alarm. No one would hear him though… not while in a private room.

“You… you’ll pay for that with your miserable existence,” the injured bot hissed.

The red femme stared at the liquid on her servo, then down at him, surprised to find she was not as averse to the sight of his fluids as she might have expected. It actually felt rather good… to put him in his place, to make him pay for the terrible treatment his lot subjected them to. She lifted her arm again, and his whole demeanor shifted, anger replaced by fear as he stared up at her.

Something in her lurched… not in disgust… in pleasure.

Pushing his flailing servos out of the way, she brought the heavy figure down against the side of his helm, denting the ornate adornments and the plating beneath. He shouted in pain. The sensation pulsed again… and again she hit him, this time across the jaw. It split his lip components, making him choke on energon as it pooled in his mouth.

She had never experienced something quite so satisfying. She thought about the countless times she and others like her had been forced into distasteful situations with bots they wanted nothing to do with, abused, humiliated, used… rage rose in her like a black tide, swelling to consume the brittle sorrow that had been plaguing her for orns now, since her lover had been stolen away.

She struck him again, and this time, when he garbled out a plea for mercy, she laughed. Such a cruel, sadistic sound… she liked it. Over and over she lashed out, not stopping when his face became an unrecognizable mess, nor when he stopped moving entirely. It wasn’t until her frame seized with an unexpected overload that she reared back, arching, crying out in bliss.

Several kliks passed as she sat there, staring up at the ceiling as she came down from her startling high. She let the statuette fall from her limp servo, slowly removing herself from the berth and stepping back to stare down at what she’d done.

‘I… I offlined him,’ she thought, shocked that she had actually succeeded.

Now, all that was left to do was wait for them to find her like this… though, that might take awhile, and she certainly didn’t want to sit here with his grotesque cadaver as it continued to leak fluids everywhere. So… she could go find them… show them. She imagined a Keeper wouldn’t be far.

Turning to the door, she strode slowly but resolutely toward it, placing her servo atop the handle… only to pause. It was as if some unseen force kept her from turning it, locking her in place as she stared down at the polished lever.

‘Is this really how it all ends? They just… scrap her… and scrap me… and that’s it? They win?’

The thought didn’t sit well with her. Despite the lingering ache that seemed to permeate every part of her, there was a spark - hot and sharp - at her core, demanding justice. A desire to see them pay for everything they had done, to see the pain they had caused visited upon them a thousand-fold. She thought about the mech who had taken her sweet little femme, about the Keeper who spoke so flippantly about it, and the Master who’d chastised her for daring to hope for something better.

“You were not made for love. You were made to serve. To please! It serves you both right, for thinking yourselves above your station!”

Echoes of his callous words rang through her processor. The hate that had taken root inside of her spark branched out, twisting, choking out the sadness. They deserved to suffer. If she perished now, no one would ensure that vengeance was meted out.

Gingerly she lifted her digits from the handle, taking one step back.

‘And who will deliver this vengeance… me?’ she asked herself, considering. ‘I’m no Megatron. No gladiator.’

Yet he had not always been a gladiator, she recalled. He had been a miner. It was sheer power of will that had helped him carve his path. A short chuckle escaped her. Though, judging from the size of him, she imagined his strength had likely helped him along. However... not every gladiator was of that same towering stature. Those who weren’t relied on other skills: speed, precision. These were things she did indeed possess, and with time, perhaps she could become more.

Her optics fell to her servos, still smeared with freshly spilt energon. Perhaps one day hers would be the servos to deliver their retribution. And if she was offlined in the process… well… at least she had made her stand.

Across the room, the lights of the city flickered through a tall window. The dark of the night whispered to her, pulling her closer. Her gaze dropped to the bustling streets below. The height was staggering, though it had never been something that bothered her. She placed a pede on the sill and stepped up, balancing herself in the narrow opening. 

"This is for us, Star of my Spark."

Without looking back, she released her grip on the frame… and let herself fall.

Poor Ratchet <3

It would have been so awesome if Ratchet had called. ( ᐛ )و

Part 7🥀🩶

Only 3 more to go!!

Existing without her was… excruciating. Every breem that crept by brought with it little reminders that she wasn’t here any longer, and the blade in her spark twisted anew. She wondered if there would ever come a time when it didn’t hurt anymore… and then wondered if that was something she even wanted. That would mean that she’d forgotten… healed. She didn’t quite deserve that.

She’d been under near constant surveillance since they’d found her comatose in that room, whimpering and unresponsive. It had not taken them long to figure out the cause of her state, which had prompted a long-winded lecture about following rules, along with the promise that she would be punished in the event that she acted out again.

Not that she truly needed supervision. She was all but a husk now, completing her duties listlessly, still wading through the shock and grief of her loss. She hardly registered anything, moving more out of habit than actual obedience. Tonight she was serving in the lounge again, the room yet another reminder. The last place she had seen her Shining Star.

A servo flagged her down, and she moved soundlessly to the table, filling the first cup.

“I told you he was dangerous… I told all of them! We should have sent someone to take him out during recharge… and now the whole fraggin’ planet’s in an uproar!”

“Another attack, this one in Praxus.”

“Primus… they’re getting closer all the time.”

She couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, gratification coiling through her at their obvious distress. She had never liked members of the Elite Guard before, their mannerisms and predisposition to violence making them the least enjoyable patrons… now she had even more reason to detest them. She moved around the table, filling as she went, her digits tightening around the handle of the carafe as she resisted the urge to spit in it.

“As if that wasn’t bad enough, they’ve taken full control of Kaon. Not having access to those forges is going to severely reduce our flow of resources. It’s only a matter of time before they come here. The Council needs to move fast if we have any hope of squashing this movement. We need to mobilize immediately.”

“He’s a miner… a miner! It’s embarrassing that he’s been allowed to get this far. I say we bring this fight to his doorstep and wipe out every lowly bot in that Primus-foresaken place. Throw them all into the smelting pits.”

It was strange, feeling anything other than the sorrow… in a way it was a relief. A distraction. Deep inside her aching chassis, the seeds of resentment she had once fostered for the higher castes blossomed into hate.

“Yeah, well… good luck pitching that to Alpha Trion. He’s still insistent we can resolve this through the Prime initiative. Fool. Megatron wants no part in peacekeeping. He’s out for energon.”

‘I hope he eviscerates all of you,’ she thought to herself, moving away from them and back into the corner.

Hearing word of the uprising was strange, the news filling her with a grim satisfaction while simultaneously fueling her pain. To know there truly had been a future out there for her and her lover was as infuriating as it was heartbreaking. They had been so close… what a cruel, cruel joke.

Also this user!! Check their art out, too! It's just so *deep breath* GODDAMNGOOD!!!

seen lots of bots in collars lately so i join the fun 💙

I'm sorry but if you havent gone to look at this user's art you need to STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING IMMEDIATELY and go check them out. SO good!!

(Metal pipe sfx)

more licking :P

To the lovely anon

who sent a KOBD request I promise I did not forget you I am just *trying my hardest* to get through this OC origin stuff so I can start on other things!!

Imagine the girl you've been pining over for decades who's been tormenting you still doesn't leave you alone even after she explodes into fairy dust

Couldn't be me

This will be colored at one point

Ravage being an absolute menace is my favorite🤍

His pretty smirk Im dying

Starscream being so needy for some respect and/or praise that he seriously tries to impress Silas and then one of his random human soldiers...

Extremely stupid ratchet comic

Part 6🥀🩶

Two orns now, and not a single glimpse of her. It was a long stretch to go without contact, even if that contact was as fleeting as a discrete brush when they passed in the halls. She wasn’t still with the same client? It wasn’t unheard of… but it wasn’t common for a patron to stay for such a long time.

She considered her options, how she might find a way to inquire about her lover’s location without giving anything away. Recollections of her encounter with the young mech from Vos flickered through her processor.

“I think I’d like to meet her.”

A pleased smile curved her lip components for a nano-klik before disappearing, and she made her way toward the Grand Salon, steps even and measured. Bypassing the guests and other courtesans, she maneuvered to the head of the room, where one of the Keepers stood monitoring activity.

Pausing when she reached the dias, she stood quietly until she was acknowledged. Seeing the slim mech wave a servo in her direction, she tipped into a slight bow. Head down, she inquired softly, “Greetings, Keeper Accelera. Might I have a moment?”

“What is it?”

“I have a patron who expressed interest in the femme who last performed at the Inner Theatre. When is her next available appointment?”

"That one is no longer available. Tell your client to see me and I will offer them similar alternatives.”

…

…

…

What?

Everything else fell away, her spark stuttering in her chassis at the implication in those words – said so flippantly. No longer available. The phrase used by Masters and Keepers when a courtesan was scrapped, but that wasn’t - it couldn’t… no.

No.

How?!

No! No! NO!!

From the corner of her optics, she saw the Keeper glance at her expectantly, and she forced herself to mutter a brief acknowledging response before turning away and striding from the room. She sought an empty lift, refusing to meet the gaze of any she passed. Her servos balled into tight, trembling fists behind her back, her stance wavering as she rode the pod to the upper floors. Once there, she identified a vacant room and slipped inside unnoticed, closing the door softly and pressing her forehead against the smooth metal. The rooms here were built to offer privacy, dampening almost all sound from within.

A sharp, keening wail escaped her as she sunk to the floor, helm shaking in denial.

Images of her lover’s smiling countenance as she looped her arm through that fuming guard’s own came back to her. Him. He had done this.

The anger was quickly swallowed up by guilt. She… had let it happen. She should have been the one to serve him that night. But her Star had stepped in… volunteered.

‘I never should have allowed it. This… is my doing.’

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to escape this nightmarish place… find happiness together. She was a sweet, gentle spark, without an ounce of bitterness in her. She, above all others, had deserved happiness. Instead, she had met an ignoble end in this wretched place, her last moments spent alone, afraid, in pain. And they threw her away like scrap, like she was nothing.

She was everything… and now she was gone.

Her arms shook as she struggled to keep herself upright, eventually giving in, collapsing and pulling herself into a shuddering heap. Her outlook on their situation had always been far more pessimistic, but her darling lover had dispelled the darkness with her light. Tucking her chin against her chassis, she closed her optics, feeling the slim hope that had resided in her flicker out of existence.

Part 5🥀🩶

Working the pit broadcasts had always been a tedious affair. The bots in attendance would often partake in engex a little too enthusiastically, becoming raucous beyond what their usual decorum codes allowed. The Masters were inclined to make exceptions during these events, however, as they were immensely lucrative.

Ignoring the urge to groan as she stepped into the server’s station behind the bar, the red femme locked optics with the smaller white bot and shared a knowing smile.

“I can hardly feel my aft anymore. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been grabbed.”

Gold brows tilting playfully, she replied, “The poor thing. I’ll make sure to pay special attention to it once we’re done here.”

While the work was far from pleasant - and the clientele equally abysmal – there was one benefit to being assigned to these fights. All of the attending courtesans and servants were rewarded a recharge slot immediately after, which meant that whenever she and her lover were on the same rotation, they could spend that time together.

The lounge erupted in a chorus of shouts, and both femmes, along with the others who’d been standing in the wings awaiting their cues, peered around the wall that separated them from the rest of the room. The main event was beginning, the participants making their entrances onto the arena floor. The monitor at the far end of the lounge flicked between angles, cycling theough an overhead view, a shot of the packed stadium, before finally zooming in on the gladiators.

“How utterly barbaric,” another courtesan - a slender blue mech – murmured.

She was inclined to agree. The Pit Fights were labeled as ‘entertainment’, but she saw them for what they were. A reminder to the lower castes that they were expendable.

The cheers of the patrons quickly turned sour, some snarling expletives while others merely scowled up at the screens.

“They must not like that one very much,” her lover observed.

The bot in question was one she recognized. He had first appeared some time ago as an underdog - a former miner, she recalled, having heard the chatter at previous events. It was… intriguing to have witnessed the shift in their view of him. There was a brief time, early on, when many of the clients had been fans of his, or rather fans of the funds they made by betting on him. Despite the odds he won, over and over again, and as he gained popularity among the lower castes, his favor in the optics of the higher castes quickly plummeted.

At a table not far from where they were stationed, a particularly loud soldier sneered, “This is it. There’s no way he makes it out of this one!”

“You’ve said that before,” one of his companions drawled, his tone far more controlled.

The other laughed lowly, a malicious sound. “I’ve got it on good authority that the Pit Masters have stacked the match. A lineup no single bot could survive.”

“Awful,” her lover whispered in response.

“It’s their nature,” she reminded her, having grown to expect nothing less from their ilk. The high castes treated those beneath them like objects and tools, made for the sole purpose of their benefit, comfort, and entertainment.

She had seen many of the mech’s matches, not that the fighting had ever truly interested her. His oration skill, however, had caught her off guard and piqued her interest. He had a tendency to speak to the crowd after a victory, his words stirring the flicker of unrest in her spark. He spoke of the undue suffering of his people, and all those who were not so fortunate as to have been designated a higher ‘function’. His insistence that every sentient being ought to have the opportunity to carve their own path struck a chord deep within her, and the feeling had remained ever since, growing steadily with time.

She glanced down at her Star, wondering if her dreams of freedom were really all that unattainable. Glancing back at the monitor, the red femme watched the reigning champion take his position. Prior to this match, she had found amusement in his success, not because she found him amusing – she didn’t pay much attention to the fights themselves – but because he caused such unrest in the higher castes. Watching them unravel was always enjoyable. Tonight, for the first time, it felt important… more meaningful somehow. She cared about his victory.

‘Please… you have to win.’

The fight was a brutal one, and – as the loud soldier from earlier had suggested – certainly seemed as though it was rigged to ensure his loss. Yet despite the impossible odds, he held his own, moving with a speed and grace that belied one of his frame type, pressing on with a ferocity she had never seen before. It was wildly impressive... and inspiring.

Tensions in the lounge were high, patrons nearly silent as the match dragged on. When no one was looking, she grabbed hold of her lover and pulled her back behind the bar, ensuring they were alone.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” the smaller bot asked, gentle servos cradling her waist.

She looked down at the femme who had given her the only joy she knew, tracing the lines of her beautiful countenance with irreverent optics. “We should leave this place.”

The little femme smiled, making to reply.

“No… I mean it.”

“We cannot-”

“Please, just listen. Those mechs at the table, they’re afraid of him. Of what he’s doing. All the higher ups are. They won’t say it, but it tracks in their tone, their posture when they speak of him. I’ve been watching, listening. If this truly becomes the movement they fear it will… we might have a real shot at making a life for ourselves outside of these walls. It may be the only chance we ever get.”

Her lover glanced up at her with worry etched into her features, slim digits tightening on the plates along her backstrut.

“It would be dangerous… to go. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Reaching around, she took up the other’s smaller servos and held them in her own, rubbing comforting circles over the joints. “We’re in danger here… every day. The danger just looks different, it’s not as apparent. My Star… I would never leave without you, so if you want to stay, we stay. Just… please… think about it.”

There was a brief pause, only a handful of nano-kliks, but it felt like a small eternity. Finally, the white femme gave her an answer.

“For you, my Scarlet Flower, I would go to the ends of the universe. Where you go, I follow.”

The kiss was so desperate and abrupt it nearly knocked the pair of them over, but she was able to brace them against the wall, lifting her slender lover off the floor and cradling her against her chassis.

Ex-venting as she willed her spark not to burst with joy, she promised lowly, “I will do everything I can to protect you.”

“We will protect one another,” was her soft reply.

“NO!!”

The livid shout and the sound of a table clattering over brought their shared moment to an abrupt end, and she quickly set the white and gold femme down to see what all the commotion was about.

Several bots were on their pedes, staring at the monitor. On it, the image of an energon soaked arena flickered, and in the middle of it all stood the champion, still undefeated.

“I still function!”

His raspy cry sent the crowd into a frenzy, the deafening applause quieting only when he lifted a servo, signaling he had more to say.

“Let this be a message to those who seek to see my spark snuffed out – those who seek to see all of us defeated. We are the many, and our time has come!”

Again they cheered, and again he brought them to heel with a wave of his servo.

“For too long they have reaped the rewards of our suffering. Without us, they would have nothing. They would be nothing. And when we come together, there is nothing they can do to stop us from claiming everything we are owed. We will have justice! Stand with me! Rise up!”

The cacophony of voices surged in volume, slowly coming together in a chant that filled the stadium, and in turn, the dimly lit lounge.

Megatron! Megatron! Megatron!

The bots in attendance said nothing as they watched the spectacle unfold, and she could practically feel the nervousness radiating from them.

The two femmes, now standing side by side, glanced at one another.

“It’s fragging impossible! No one should have survived that!” the inebriated soldier shouted, looking ready to flip another table. The mech he was with tried in vain to calm him, but he was having none of it, the feeble attempts only serving to fuel his rage.

A Keeper moved to intervene at this point, speaking lowly to him, gesturing in ways that made her nervous. Suddenly her optics cut across the room at them, signaling one of them needed to come and attend their guest.

Frag. There went their evening together. She had to keep a tight hold on her displeasure in that moment, but reminded herself it was a very real possibility that soon they would have all the time in the world with one another.

Her lover’s small servo caught her arm. Glancing down, she lifted a brow in askance.

“Let me take this one. I’ll get him settled.”

“Are you certain. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to be very pleasant company.”

“Undoubtedly, however… I do have a way with the more surly ones,” the white femme teased.

A short chuckle escaped her vocaliser. “Yes, you certainly do. Take care, Star of my Spark. I’ll see you soon.”

RELEVANT

Enough, Reggie

TRUMPET BOY MEME

Strike that pose‼️‼️‼️

Ohhh so cute! Love this take.

TFP Shockwave would 100%

have a fixation on studying Earth's species. Regardless of how 'inferior' organics are. His is a scientific mind, and he would be entirely incapable of stopping himself from considering all the correlations between their races. I hear people talk a lot about how 'different' humans and cybertronians are, but in the Aligned verse specifically, they have an inarguable link, and it SHOWS. Humans, while small and squishy, have similar shapes, mannerisms, feelings. Their planet was formed around an enormous cybertronian corpse, and it had an impact on the evolution of the species inhabiting it - not just humans, even some of the other fauna and flora are similar in likeness to the species that existed on their home world.

I imagine it wouldn't be his top priority by any means, but I could see him capturing animals (humans included) to run experiments on... just to see how similar/different they are. After all, when your race is at risk of extinction and your home planet is a husk, being stationed somewhere that has a connection to your species would provide a unique opportunity. It would be entirely logical and beneficial to explore any potential those connections may present.

Unlikely, but what if this planet - or humanity - contained the key to the resuscitation of their kind? A missing link they had never considered; immediately labeling them inferior and therefore not worthy of study.

Peak

Gomen

Ugh my heart!!

"And what a faithful servant your father is."

Best dad ever... wish he was my dad *sobs hysterically*

🏖